


what have i done?

by laurensintheplacetobe (shadowattack)



Series: the "what" series [1]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dream Smp, Gen, dream smp election spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:00:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26607124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowattack/pseuds/laurensintheplacetobe
Summary: Wilbur thought he knew what was going to happen. He couldn’t have been more wrong.
Series: the "what" series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1977634
Comments: 7
Kudos: 135





	what have i done?

**Author's Note:**

> this fic isn't exactly how things went down but i felt as if i needed to write something. here you go! sorry that it's pretty short

Wilbur thought he knew what was going to happen.

He and Tommy had it in the bag; they had the most vocal support, George hadn’t shown up to the voting address. Quackity had lost faith in his party, and Schlatt, even though he had announced his run, no one had taken the madman seriously. Wilbur even told his vice president not to worry, L’Manberg will still be theirs’.

But now Wilbur stood frozen between the trees of the wildlands. Exiled from the very country he built and led. Tommy was somewhere behind him, looping around the borders of their old land to try and sneak in to grab something, anything. Anything to make risking his neck worth it.

“Be careful, Tommy,” Wilbur whispered into the comm device in his ear. Half of his mind was focused on the teenager— he was like a little brother to him. The other half, the one hiding in between the cold spruce trunks, was watching the very walls that housed and protected him and his citizens, his _family,_ being torn down.

His fingers gripped the binoculars tightly. He’d lost feeling in them a while ago from the bite of the night in the cool autumn air. There was George back from his absence tearing the walls down with his enchanted pickaxe. It seemed as if the blackstone was actually made out of styrofoam with George’s pick slicing through it. Wilbur turned away from the co-vice president to another figure.

The new sight nearly sent the ex-president to his knees. His stomach churned. There, carefully mining away at the blackstone walls, was his _son._ No matter what he said, what the fox had done to him— Fundy was still his son.

Yet seeing the orange fur against the falling blackstone bricks was enough for the love still left in his heart to be crushed. That was it. Wilbur will not take any more damage to his soul.

Rage boiled deep within his blood as he turned away from the distant light. His thoughts ran a mile a minute but he couldn’t grab just one to think about. Shadows and hidden roots made the ground a minefield. The threat of someone finding him so close to the SMP spurred him onwards, Tommy chattering nervously in his ears.

_“Oh God, I think they saw me. Wilbur!”_

Wilbur pressed a finger against his ear. He was lost. Where had they put their new base? “Tommy, get out of there. If they’ve seen you—”

_“No, no, they’re moving on. I-I thought they did. We_ need _those resources. I’ve got my Ender chest, and I’ve stolen Fundy’s horse.”_

The word sliced straight through his heart. He stumbled over a jutted rock. A nearby sheep bleated in alarm.

_“Oh my God, Wilbur. L’Manberg_ —”

“I know, Tommy. It’s gone.” He wished he hadn’t dragged Tommy into this. If Wilbur was proud of L’Manberg, then Tommy adored it. The boy had already lost his best friend today, now he has to witness the destruction of their greatest creation. Even if the traitor Eret had built those walls, they had all defended it with their tears, sweat, and blood.

Uneven breathing came over the comms. _“Wilbur, they’re calling it Manberg. Wh-what kind of stupid name is that?”_

Somehow he had found his way back to the base. It was well hidden. He was sure that no one would find it.

He sat on the raggedy orange cot inside the base. Tommy was whispering over the comms, but it wasn’t to him. It sounded as if he were talking to someone else…

Wilbur thought he knew what was going to happen. He couldn’t have been more wrong. He didn’t see Schlatt teaming up with Quackity, how the votes came together meant that he and Tommy had lost by one percent. This was all his fault.

A new voice in his ear shook him from his thoughts. On instinct, Wilbur stood, hand grasping his diamond sword. His limbs were unused to the heavy weight of the diamond armour; never before had he worn armor while he’d been here. L’Manbergians didn’t need armor. So much has changed in the past day.

_“Hello, Tommy. Hello, Wilbur.”_

The deep voice shook the ex-president to his core. What was Techno doing on their comms?

“What do you want, Technoblade?” Wilbur spat. His nerves jittered. Outside, the darkness swallowed anything that may be outside. Zombies groaned in the distance.

_“Tommy invited me.”_

“Tommy!”

The teenager butted in, _“We need his help, Wilbur! He can train us. Without him, we can’t get L’manberg back.”_

God, he hated that Tommy was right. Techno was the strongest one around. He was the only one to have beaten Dream in combat consistently. Not to mention his spud farming skills. With only Tommy and Wilbur, there’d be no way the two could survive. Wilbur was meant to lead, not survive the wild.

He couldn’t trust Technoblade. He couldn’t trust anybody anymore. Even Tubbo. How fast that boy called Schlatt _Mr. President._ Yet there was more hope for him than the pig.

Wilbur couldn’t figure out if the sigh he just let out lifted the weight on his shoulders or added more. Damn this armour. His uniform clung to his body with sweat underneath. “Okay. Come back to the base. Welcome to Pogtopia, Technoblade.”

The ex-president met back with his former vice-president and new ally on the hill overlooking L’Manberg’s old walls. In the distance, the large flag burned hot in the chilly wind.

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to my style: em dashes and lots of commas


End file.
